


Another Island

by cruisedirector



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk (2008), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Body Image, Camping, Control Issues, Denial of Feelings, Embarrassment, Explicit Consent, Exploration, Falling In Love, Fear, First Time Bottoming, Hiding, Hopeful Ending, Hulk Feels, Intimacy, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Mirror Sex, New Zealand, Oral Sex, Post-Avengers (2012), Protection, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Secrets, Suicidal Thoughts, Talking, Travel, Volcanoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony follows Bruce on what Tony thinks at first is a scientific expedition, hoping the other guy won't put in an appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Campfire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karelian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karelian/gifts).



> Like Steve Rogers, this story began life in a different era with a rather different body. For those of you familiar with its origin way back when, please keep it secret, keep it safe. My original betas were GloriaMundi and jennandanica, but the story has been remixed so thoroughly that they should in no way be blamed for any errors that have crept in.

Tony hadn't expected that he would be the one to find Bruce Banner. Romanov and Rogers were more heavily invested in the search, and when Natasha decided she wanted a man, Tony didn't think he'd have an easy time keeping away from her. But Stark Industries had resources that the Avengers Initiative didn't, and Tony had projects with which there was no one as qualified to assist as Banner -- not even the crazy new person Jarvis had become, who intimidated even Thor.

So Tony turned his scanners on the remote places of the world, and got a ping on the Hulk when a katipo spider bit Banner in the only place on Earth where it lived. By the time Tony arrived in New Zealand, the Hulk was Bruce again, and though he wasn't all that happy to see Tony there, he wasn't angry enough to turn green.

Apparently Bruce had decided that the best way to get rid of Tony was to bore him to tears, the way Tony nearly had done to Bruce telling him about Extremis. Which was how Tony found himself sitting beside Bruce around a fire after a day's fishing, with actual rods and nets but not a single laser. The lack of conversation could not be described as a comfortable silence, exactly, since Bruce was stubbornly refusing to let Tony engage him on any subject that mattered. So Tony felt justified in being cranky.

"I could have some of Stark Industries' heated tents and levitation cots flown in to Wellington in a few hours. You could be sleeping on a much more comfortable bed."

"You mean, you could." Bruce shot him a look. "I keep telling you, no need to babysit me. You could go to a hotel. I hear the Wharekauhau Lodge in Wairarapa is really something to see."

"But I came to see you." Tony tried a charming smile. "The tents are also insect-proof. You wouldn't have to worry about rare spiders trying to kill you and setting off the other guy."

"Fuck you, Stark." Bruce had finally given up warning Tony away from the other guy, after that morning when they'd woken wrapped together in a tangle of fabric and limbs, having moved close in the night to ward off the cold. Tony would have shrugged off awakening with a cock pressed into his thigh, but he could tell that Bruce was embarrassed about how hard he had been just before consciousness hit and he rolled away.

Because he was feeling generous, he had avoided any topic related to sex all day, even Natasha, which was a subject Tony thought out of fairness he really ought to broach. A couple of times he had glanced over to find Banner looking speculatively at him -- okay, the fact that Tony had flown halfway around the world to hang out with Banner might have made it look like Tony wanted something more than his technical expertise, and if Tony was being honest, he'd spent plenty of time thinking about Banner, and the Hulk, and the connection between passion and rage, and whether it was possible to fuck the Hulk without getting killed, but he wasn't about to tell the Hulk's host that. Besides, every time he winked, Bruce would shrug and grin, which might have constituted mild flirting but did not suggest barely suppressed lust. 

Tony thought that if Bruce ever looked at him with barely suppressed lust, he'd undoubtedly do something they'd both regret.

So when Bruce poked at the fire and grudgingly offered Tony some of the fish he'd caught, Tony stuck to safe topics like science. It was obvious that even if Banner was coping with the lack of human companionship, he missed getting to brainstorm with people more than he missed flirting. Tony had his computers scanning and processing a wide range of scientific publications, looking for certain patterns of language and topics relating to animals, radiation, and evolution. He had suspected that one of the papers on the nocturnal bats of the south island might have been Banner's, though of course it had been published under a pseudonym -- Tony had his computers looking for variations on "Robert" and "Ross" in the byline, too. Being in exile from civilization had never made Banner stop wanting to share what he'd learned.

"I've been thinking that it might be possible to make you a suit," Tony told him. "Not like mine, obviously, since the big guy could smash right through it, but even if the Vibranium is gone, there's a denser alloy, Adamantium..." 

Bruce waved him off, and to show that he wasn't so easily dismissed, Tony slugged him in the shoulder, until the next thing he knew, they were wrestling on the ground. The possibility that he'd pushed the Hulk too far was much more exciting than it had any business being -- no wonder Pepper had told him he was a pervert, among other things, the last time she'd left. It was thrilling and wicked and _fun_ to tackle Bruce, who felt solid and unmalleable under his hands and who stared as though he couldn't figure out what Tony was up to before laughing and pinning him to the ground, no Hulk necessary, just a man who'd been living in the wild off his own muscles while Tony had been neglecting even the gym at home. 

He needed to do something with the energy burning through him, so he reached out and twisted a log to stoke the fire, taking a breath of the sweet-smoky air. Bruce merely watched this, most of his weight still on Tony, and the tension in his body could have signaled defiance or fear. Or something else, but that was probably just wishful thinking on Tony's part, even if Bruce had been alone all this time and might take whatever came along, even Tony. "Does it bother you talking about this?" he asked.

Bruce blinked down at him, then made a dismissive face. "There's nothing in your tower of tricks that's going to keep the other guy trapped for long. Don't you think I've gone over and over the data? You could drop me in an active volcano and I'm not even sure that would kill the other guy. If I get depressed enough, I might try it."

"Don't talk like that." Tony hadn't forgotten that Bruce had tried to end it all at least once before. Bruce didn't sound depressed at the moment, but Tony hadn't thought that Bruce would disappear after they'd taken care of Ultron, either. He felt a wave of pressure rising through his body, solidifying vague urges and melting all resistance. Maybe Bruce had meant it as a joke, thought he would laugh, but Tony wasn't laughing. Instead he put a hand on Bruce's shoulder, pulled him down, and kissed him. 

Or maybe it was the other guy he was kissing, because Bruce was more responsive than Tony expected, and in a much better way. Hands all over his face and chest and tongue sending very clear messages. "Wondered what took you so long."

"To find you?" asked Tony, somewhat dazed, finding half-open dark eyes glittering down at him.

"To kiss me. Am I the last? No -- I don't suppose you had the guts to make a pass at Thor."

"For fuck's sake. I'm not afraid of Thor, just not interested in getting into a pissing contest with him."

"Interesting visual." Damn, why was it so hard to tell when Bruce was joking? It wasn't easy to make Tony blush. "Captain America might have a better chance."

"Captain America is still hung up on someone he left in the '40s." Bruce probably assumed Tony meant Peggy Carter, though there was something else, some connection between that old friend of Steve's from the army and the mess that had brought down SHIELD, and Tony was going to find out one day, but he hadn't had a chance. Yet. "You're the one whose roar brought me back from the dead, Banner. And you're the one I chased to the ends of the earth."

Bruce's hands abruptly dispensed with the preliminaries and cupped his groin, sizing Tony up under his pants, squeezing and stroking. "For this?" Bruce inquired. Catching his breath, Tony thrust toward him. He groaned low in his throat, letting his hips rock. Bruce moved closer, taking his own weight on one arm while the other continued to move rhythmically. "You'll be disappointed. I'm sure you have a lot more experience than I do."

"Don't believe everything you read," Tony told him, gasping again as Bruce started to lick and bite his sweaty neck. It was more flattering and flavored with forbidden thrill than any worldly demonstrations of skill Tony had experienced, and it was true that he'd experienced plenty. Either Bruce had been interested for a while and Tony had misread the signs, or else something had given way between them out here in the wild. Either way, it was good. Tony stretched out on the ground beside the fire. "Don't stop..."

Bruce kissed him again, carefully, like he needed permission to go forward. When he opened Tony's jeans, Tony shivered as the cold air touched him until Bruce wrapped one hand over his ass and the other around his cock. Then he was on fire, grinding his hips forward while he worked his hands beneath Bruce's waistband, sucking at his throat. They rubbed and rocked together as the fire popped and hissed alongside them.

"What would you do now if the other guy put in an appearance, genius?"

"Come in my pants," Tony grunted. And threw his head back and made it true, with a cry that echoed across the trees as he sprayed over Bruce's hand and both their shirts. Bruce buried his face in Tony's hair and whispered a shaken curse, rubbing himself along Tony's thigh. When the tremors had stopped, Tony peeled Bruce's hands away and pulled at his clothes. Bruce swore again when Tony took him into his mouth, but he didn't turn green and he didn't utter another coherent syllable as he arched and pumped, finally emptying his balls with a roar.

"I could have killed you, you know," Bruce said in a shaky, shivery voice when Tony pulled back to look at him, letting the scent of the night and the fire waft between them. A moment before it had been all salt and sweat and Bruce, and Tony missed it already. It was getting cold again, especially with the wetness of their clothes clinging to them.

"You wouldn't have let me do that if you thought you were going to lose control," said Tony, straightening, wondering whether in fact it was true. He pressed his body into the other man's warmth, a bit stiffly in case Bruce resisted, but Bruce reached an arm around him and pulled them both closer to the fire. He smelled like sex and grass and the ground and the smoke, and he laughed, a warm, slow sound that bubbled up from his gut until Tony was shaking with the vibrations.

Relaxed and nearly boneless, Tony looked into Bruce's eyes, which were wary but no longer held the annoyance that Tony had seen in them nearly all day. "I suppose this means you expect my help with whatever really brought you here," said Bruce.

"The only thing that brought me here was you. No ulterior motives, no agenda. I'll leave you alone if that's what you really want, but I think you should take a couple of days to think about it."

"I'm not leaving before I study the other island," Bruce told him, then looked sorry that he'd opened his mouth. "New Zealand is right in the contact zone between the Pacific and Australian tectonic plates."

"Hot spot, right? That's why there are volcanoes. The Pacific plate's sliding underneath the Australian plate just below the North Island. You aren't the only one who's a scientist, Banner." Happy to have a chance to show off, Tony winked and waggled his eyebrows. "It's called subduction."

"Is that why you came here, Stark? To subduct me? You know it means the islands are moving apart, and eventually they'll be impossible to bridge."

"Nothing's impossible. You and I are walking proof of that." Once again, Tony slugged Bruce's shoulder. "I'll come with you to the other island. And we'll see."


	2. Journey

Unfortunately, Bruce wasn't in any hurry, even though he got up before the sun rose to go over his maps. He had several days' worth of planned expeditions, and the need for someone to get back to Stark Industries wasn't a part of his agenda. He didn't exactly invite Tony to come exploring with him, but as soon as they started talking about billion-year-old rocks, Tony realized Bruce might know something, maybe about where to find some metal more rare than vibranium. And even if Tony had had no other agenda, that would be worth exploring.

They didn't talk about what had happened by the fire. Maybe it was meant to be a singular moment in their lives -- something born of curiosity and loneliness, not meant to be repeated. Maybe that was all Bruce wanted it to be, which was fine for a lot of reasons. Tony wasn't sure himself whether his ongoing physical response to Bruce stemmed from memory, desire, or some perverse wish to see whether he could draw out the Hulk. But better safe than stupid. Even though the Hulk might not need condoms to be protected from human viruses, Tony had brought them for himself -- he always ended up deciding that neglecting to bring them would be no more virtuous than packing them, especially after he'd spent fifteen minutes staring into his open bag, getting hard as he thought about the possibilities. Being unprepared wasn't the same as being innocent.

For logistical reasons, they ended up staying in a hotel the first night on the other island, mostly because Tony needed to set up his computers and try to micromanage a couple of projects that Pepper ended up already having under control. One room, two beds, which only made sense if they were going to be sleeping next to each other on the ground the next night, though they didn't discuss it. After locking up their gear, they went into the hotel bar and had a couple of beers. The place was nearly empty, and the waitress kept stopping by to talk to them. At some point, one of her friends, a nurse, came by as well, and they all sat in a booth together and talked about weird experiences with insects and skin rashes you could get in different parts of the world.

The nurse was interested in Tony and none too subtle about letting him know. She kept running her hand up his leg under the table. Bruce seemed comfortable enough flirting with the waitress, but he kept catching Tony's eye across the booth like he was waiting for Tony to step in before Bruce could turn green, even though there was nothing like a threat anywhere around. Tony studied Bruce's fingers alternately drumming the surface of the table and wrapping together as if one hand might be able to keep the other still. He channeled his own nervous energy into doodling on his napkin, a schematic for an engine that looked like a fancy mandala with steampunk gears.

When eventually the girls went off to the bathroom, Bruce gave him an embarrassed smile and asked, "Want me to ask if she needs help closing so you two can take off?"

"What, together? I just met her an hour ago." Bruce laughed as if he couldn't tell whether or not the scandalized reply was an act. "Besides, it's late. I'm about ready to fall asleep." So that was that, even though he was still sober and didn't think Bruce got tired so easily. They said awkward goodnights and left. Tony wondered if the women would speculate about the two of them.

Their room was clean but small, with one low dresser covered with Tony's equipment and an indented alcove where they'd stashed their bags. He opened the window and stood looking out while Bruce sorted through maps on the counter beside the sink. When he dropped those and walked toward the center of the room, hovering like he wasn't sure what to do next, Tony pulled the curtains closed and met him halfway.

"Which do you want?" he asked, spreading his hands to indicate each of the beds.

"Which do I want?" Bruce stared as if he didn't understand the question. Which, Tony suddenly realized, he didn't. He started to laugh, and Bruce tried gamely to smile though Tony could see he thought he was being mocked.

Tony didn't want to over-think the situation. "Which bed," he clarified. "Thought you wanted to sleep. You didn't argue when I said I was too tired to stay in the bar."

"Oh." The look on Bruce's face definitely wasn't relief. The remnants of his smile faded and he glanced away. "I don't really care. Do you want the one closer to the window?"

Eyes still averted, Bruce turned his back on the bed in question. Tony didn't make a conscious decision; he just threw his weight forward, grabbed Bruce's shoulders and pushed off the ground as their bodies fell together, knocking them both onto the mattress.

"All right," Tony agreed when he had skidded to a halt on the warm, heaving chest. Dark eyes stared up at him, then Tony felt himself being tilted to the side as Bruce rolled. Seemed like he was about to be dumped, literally and figuratively, until one arm caught him around the waist while another encircled his shoulder, fingers sliding through his hair.

Bruce's mouth came up to meet his, lips warm and firm before they parted in a wet slide of smile. He tasted like beer and salt, and his tongue lapped hungrily at Tony's. Their legs tangled as Tony relaxed into the embrace, and he realized that Bruce was already hard...had probably been hard before they'd even touched...had probably been hard sitting downstairs in the bar while Tony had the nurse's hand on his thigh, too preoccupied to realize he was the one Bruce had wanted to take back to the room.

"Wasn't really sure you wanted this," Bruce grinned when Tony lifted up to see his face. He looked dazed but no longer confused, with ruddy cheeks and lids half-lowered. The expression wasn't seductive so much as teetering on the edge of unfocused, open-mouthed abandon.

"I wasn't sure you did either," Tony admitted, his own voice husky in his ears.

"Ever since...ahh!" Bruce threw his head back as Tony, shifting his weight, pressed against the swollen cock beneath his groin. The pulse beating through the skin of Bruce's exposed throat drew Tony's eyes, then his mouth, which he fastened onto the skin just below the stubble. "I thought it was a one-time thing. I didn't want to screw up the...fuck!"

Sharp intake of breath as his hips surged forward. "You won't screw up the fuck," Tony murmured into Bruce's ear between licks to the seashell-pattern spirals of its surface.

"I will if you don't slow down."

For a moment Tony was tempted to keep going, to see how quickly he could make Bruce come, but the rush of pleasure wasn't worth the possibility that Bruce would feel humiliated or angry -- especially angry. Sinking back, Tony let his body slide parallel to the other man's on the bed. Then he rolled his legs off the side and stood up to shut the overhead light. The illumination from the space between the curtain and window gleamed off Bruce's hair like romantic mood lighting for a movie.

When Tony sat back down, Bruce said, "I haven't really done this."

"You mean with a man?"

That earned Tony a laugh. "I mean, since I turned into a green rage monster. If I'm wrong about my self-control, it could be a big problem for you and everyone else within fifty miles. It's anger that sets off the other guy, but I'm not positive about the cause-and-effect with my heart rate. If it gets high enough, I might get very scary."

"You weren't very scary the other night in my mouth." Tony liked the little extra whine in Bruce's grunt of assent. "What does 'haven't really' mean?"

"I couldn't with Betty. I lost my shit. For a long time I thought it meant I could never have sex with anyone, but I could, um, by myself, without destroying cities." Bruce made a gesture with his hand that Tony could easily recognize in half-darkness. "And I realized that when I was trying to do it with Betty, I was worrying about other things -- never being able to be the kind of husband she wanted, with kids and the whole thing."

"You got angry," Tony guessed.

"I'm always angry, but I was angry at myself with her, and that's the worst. So I stopped dating. One night, in a really remote village, I had too much to drink because I didn't think I could get drunk, which was stupid, since enough tranquilizers will slow me down without turning on the rage monster. I met a girl, and we were just, you know, kissing mostly, and it had been a long time, and I went off in my clothes like I was fourteen. Which was very embarrassing but I took it to mean that if I wanted to try actual sex, it would probably be all right as long as I wasn't raging about other things."

"I remember what it was like having to get used to having an electromagnet in my body. Humiliating sexual experiences were the norm for a while. Not the same thing, I know, but I can relate a little." Tony had fooled around with plenty of girls just because he liked their breasts, knowing that they were fooling around with him just because they were curious about the thing in his chest.

"Then you probably know it's easier to find anonymous sex with men. I got offers. I'm sure you get your share. But I have to tell you, I've never taken it in the ass. Wasn't sure what would happen if it hurt or if I asked him to slow down and he didn't listen. Still think this is a good idea or going to be any good for you?"

Tony recalled plenty of anonymous sex and not-so-anonymous sex with men whose names he should have remembered but didn't -- the shame of having taken what was given with his eyes shut to block out the reality of the moment. There were also a couple of times when he'd been the other guy, the one who was content to take assent for enthusiasm. He supposed he had thought it might be like that with Bruce after that first night camping, which might have led to denial and blame. This at least was only hesitation. "It's fine with me if you don't want to take it in the ass. The other guy's is bigger than I really like, anyway."

The annoyance that curled Bruce's lip looked so Hulkish that it made Tony grin. "I tried to make sure to leave the other guy on the other island." The stiff set of his shoulders became a different kind of tension, like a wrestler waiting for a signal to move.

"It was good for me on the other island. So if that's what you want, come here."

The muscled body coiled and sprung, pinning him to the bed. It was Tony's turn to tilt underneath so he could get his arms around Bruce, who dove for his mouth and didn't let up until they were both gasping for breath as they ground together.

"Can I, um..."

"Anything you want," Tony assured him. The hands that reached to tug on his shirt quivered against his side. Bruce wanted to please him so badly that he was fumbling with the snap on Tony's jeans, cursing. He slid his lips down Tony's chest and over his stomach as he pushed Tony onto his back.

Oh God, to thrust up into Bruce's mouth, to feel that tongue on him...Tony felt sweat break out on his skin as his own urgency rose. It would be quick for him too, and despite what he had told Bruce, he was aching to shove in deep, sink his fingers in Bruce's hair and bury himself inside...

"Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked when he felt Bruce's breath tickle the hair above his groin.

"Afraid I'll bite it off?" Bruce looked up at him from between his legs, smirking, but his hands gripped tensely on Tony's thighs, betraying his nervousness. "I don't get angry during blow jobs. Even at head-pushers."

"It's not that. I'm afraid I'll rush you..."

"I'll live." Said with laughter. Tony gazed down at the dark head hovering over his lower body, lips parted in the shape of a kiss. "Do what you want. I'm not a virgin. I know how a blow job's supposed to end."

"I know. I just..." The warm breath of an impatient sigh spread maddeningly over his skin. "Why with me?"

Bruce's eyes widened like he couldn't believe he had to explain this. He started to shake his head, then stared straight at Tony, color rising in his cheeks. "Because it's you," he said.

Tony felt the air leave his lungs as if something had crashed into him. He had to put his head down for a second, and in that moment Bruce's mouth closed over the tip of his cock, tongue catching the drop of moisture that had welled up to greet it. Hands slid down his thighs until the thumbs could trace the outlines of his balls. Tony clenched the sheet between his fists but his hips rose anyway, bucking him into wet heat that stayed with him, stretching to accommodate him.

"Christ, Bruce," he rasped, tossing his head back and forth to stop from ramming himself with all his might down the other man's throat. Just then Bruce gave a hum of pleasure, setting off vibrations that Tony could feel in his fingers and toes and deep inside him, making him thrust harder to stop the tickle. Bruce pushed his own finger into his mouth alongside Tony's cock, slurped at both for a minute, then pulled the wet finger free and pushed it slowly but steadily into Tony's ass. He moved very gently inside at first, but when Tony pulled his legs up and thrashed between Bruce's mouth and hand, both the speed and pressure increased.

And Tony was in free-fall, arched off the bed with his legs in the air, pumping down Bruce's throat with nothing to keep him grounded but one hand on the sheet and the solid flesh holding him pinned. He fell backward when it was over, opening his eyes to a room of shifting colors and flashing sparks as Bruce crawled over him.

"You..." he started to say but Bruce brought his mouth down, and the sex-flavored kiss left Tony too breathless for words. Feeling the hard throbbing pressure beneath the other man's jeans, he put his hands on his shoulders to get his attention. "Not sure we need them, but I brought..." he started to say at the same moment Bruce spoke.

"Would you let me..." They both stopped, filling the silence with harsh breathing that turned into low chuckles. "I'll, um. Be right back." Bruce looked like he wanted to say something else, but he broke the gaze as he swallowed. Tony felt the other man's weight lift off the bed, heard him rummaging with zippers before he returned, naked and aroused, hands closed tightly around their contents like he didn't want them to be seen. Tony filched the condom from Bruce's grip and put it onto him, then the lube -- the drugstore kind, obviously a last-minute purchase. Tony had brought the expensive stuff but didn't want to waste time hunting for it.

Bruce took the tube back and warmed some of the gel between his hands before stroking it around and inside the opening his finger had breached earlier. "You all right like this?" he asked, and Tony nodded. From the size of Bruce's cock, he knew he would be more comfortable if he rolled over, but he wanted to see Bruce's face.

Bruce lowered himself, warm muscles rippling over Tony's skin, then hesitated, closing his eyes and gulping in air. "I'm..." he breathed, and Tony thought he might come just from anticipation -- all of his urgency and anxiety compressed into a single intense moment. But after a moment Bruce's eyes snapped open and he pressed forward, pushing past the tight ring of muscle to slide inside Tony's body.

As Tony breathed through the spike of discomfort, he watched Bruce struggle with tension that corded the muscles in his throat and knotted his hands into fists. Sweat ran down the side of his face and across his chest. "Let go," Tony urged, forcing himself to relax. "I'm not a virgin, either. I'm not going to break." Bruce shuddered once, then started thrusting. It was too soon for Tony to get hard again, but he could tell that it would be fantastic to come with Bruce inside him, with that big cock pushing on that sweet spot, Bruce's big hand wrapped around Tony's cock, the bed creaking like it was doing now.

Bruce thrust a few more times and convulsed, groaning loudly. His weight felt good. Then he pulled out and lay still afterwards with his face on Tony's chest, breathing through his mouth. Suddenly his hand came up and drew a circle around a nipple with one fingertip. When he spoke, his voice had a throatiness that might have been laughter but it was hard to tell.

"I had a mental list of things to do to impress you and I forgot all of them. Was it all right?"

"It was a hell of a lot better than all right." Tony tilted his head awkwardly to look down at Bruce, who had his eyes barely raised and looked almost shy. It was hard for Tony to think of someone Bruce's age as needing reassurance, but he realized that he had better say more or Bruce was going to worry. "It was great. Was it all right for you?"

Bruce snickered as he lowered his head, hiding his smile against Tony's skin. "Great," he echoed. "I don't think my heart's gone back to normal."

Probably he meant his pulse, but Tony didn’t miss the other implication. _Great_ probably meant that Bruce was struggling with it more than if it had been just okay. Bruce wasn't lying half on top of him now, gazing nervously up at him like he might have fucked something up, just because he was bored or curious. "Come up here," Tony said and pulled on his shoulders. Bruce obliged, tying off the condom and tossing it away, sliding off him and up the mattress to flop heavily at his side. Tony rolled him toward the window, wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed his legs into Bruce's until both their knees were bent. Softly he asked, "Do you mind sharing the bed?"

"No." Bruce sounded amused by the question. He rested quietly for a little while, then shifted his arm so he could squeeze his hand around Tony's fist. "When you asked me which bed I wanted, I wanted to say, 'Yours.'"

Tony bent to kiss Bruce's shoulder. He wanted to get up and clean up, but the warmth from Bruce's body lulled him into staying, curled in the middle of the bed like a pair of islands in the expanse of the ocean. Drifting, he slept, and dreamed of the sea spread wide beneath a sky filled with stars.


	3. Geology

It was like a holiday with two different people. During the day, Tony traveled with his friend who talked like a fanboy about rock formations and metallurgy and radiation, yet who was comfortable going most of an evening without conversation, reading a book while Tony swore at communication equipment that didn't always work as quickly as he'd designed it to do. Bruce sulked a bit when the rain came down and lit up when the sun came out, stripping off to go swimming without a hint of self-consciousness. He neither sought nor avoided physical contact. He laughed at Tony's stupidest jokes.

Then at night, after they'd eaten and cleaned their gear and scribbled notes in their journals, Bruce would come to Tony with a question in his eyes -- every night the same question, though the answer never changed. And as soon as Tony touched him, Bruce would reach out for him and hold nothing back. Bruce liked to kiss. Bruce liked to tickle. Bruce played with Tony's hair and traced his scars with his tongue. There wasn't anyplace Bruce wouldn't put his mouth.

And Bruce let Tony do everything, even though it made him nervous, even though he couldn't relax enough for the discomfort to let up. Even when it had been Bruce's own idea and Tony kept offering to stop. "Just talk me through it," he growled, and Tony talked until he was sure he'd said too much. He heard himself telling Bruce things he hadn't ever put into words in his own mind, the reasons he'd followed Bruce all the way to New Zealand, the reasons he'd put his company and his government contracts on hold. The reasons he'd put up with bugs and bats and one night a kiwi wandering into their campsite, strutting and bobbing just at the edge of their range of vision, puffing itself out as it walked, a creature that could have been from another world.

The kiwis were all under some kind of protection program, and Tony thought maybe he and Bruce were supposed to report having seen one, but he felt as skittish about contact with other humans as the bird, which suddenly seemed to notice them. It ducked as if to peer over its long bill, then fled into the darkness. Tony extended his hand in the direction where it had disappeared, pulled it in to press above his heart, and shyly held it out to Bruce, who took the open fingers in his own.

"I knew you were a bigger sap than you let on."

Bruce held on to him until he fell asleep, seemingly contented. In the morning, like every other morning, Tony's friend would be back, grumbling as he attempted to heat water for breakfast, smiling as they discussed plans for the day. If Bruce was ever tired, sore, uneasy about anything they'd done the night before, he never let Tony know. Nor did he let him know if he wanted more. When Tony greeted him one day with "Good morning, lover," Bruce chuckled as if it were a joke.

"It's miserably hot. Maybe not the best day to see volcanoes."

Tony shrugged. "We could stay here."

"You mean take it easy? Sounds good."

"Actually," Tony held Bruce's gaze through lowered lashes, "I want to spend all day in bed."

"You feeling all right?" Bruce sounded concerned, and completely oblivious. Then, as Tony smiled, his expression changed; his brows lowered, and his mouth twisted into a smirk. "Or joking around?"

"I'm completely serious." Quickly Tony moved to Bruce's side, tugging on his hands, which were slippery in his own. "We've only got a couple more days."

"I know." Bruce looked away, off in the distance. "I thought you wanted to climb up to the crater."

"You just said taking it easy sounded good." Bruce glanced at him, startled and obviously guilty. With a quick squeeze to Bruce's fingers and a surge of ambivalence, Tony let go. "Never mind. What do you want to do today?"

Jamming his hands in his pockets, Bruce stepped back and away, blowing his breath out between his lips. He wandered to the edge of the circle of trees that marked the boundary of their campsite, then just as abruptly swung around to face Tony again.

"I guess we should talk."

But he didn't, and after a minute of silence, Tony cursed himself for having pushed. "We don't have to."

"No, we should. I just keep putting it off." Shoulders hunched, Bruce walked back over, keeping his hands shoved defensively in his pockets. He tried to shrug, but his body was too tense for the gesture. "You go back in a couple of days and then what?"

Tony had no idea how to answer -- neither what Bruce wanted to hear nor, truth be told, what he wanted to say. He had been careful not to build any expectations. As good as he'd felt the past several days, he'd also had a sense of unreality, halfway around the globe from the rest of his life. The pleasures -- sightseeing, shared interests, uncomplicated sex that sometimes surprised Tony with its intensity but had thus far involved no games, no ghosts from the past -- wouldn't be easy to maintain.

If this turned out to be just a nice interlude that never touched the rest of their lives, with or without the Avengers, he didn't want either of them to have regrets. He started to say so, but Bruce continued as if the question had been rhetorical. "This all came with an expiration date. We both knew that going in." He smiled mirthlessly.

It hurt a little to acknowledge, but Tony had taken the same thing for granted. "What do you want to happen?" he asked.

Bruce sat beside Tony on the ground, picking a blade of grass and rolling it around a finger. "I guess I just assumed things would have to go back to normal." He blew out a breath, bending the grass in his hand. "Though I'm not really sure what 'normal' is anymore." Then, calmly, almost casually, still rolling the blade between his fingers, he said something Tony never expected, not from Bruce, not with half a smile, not sitting in the grass near their sleeping bags in the clear diffuse light of an overcast morning. "I might be a little in love with you."

Tony's jaw flexed open and closed again. "You...oh," he stammered, feeling as if something had crashed into his chest, exactly the same way he'd felt that first night when Bruce had said he wanted it because it was Tony. Now Bruce grinned more broadly, not joking and not afraid -- just a little embarrassed, as if they were talking again about sexual incompetence instead of blurting out something Tony hadn't dared to consider, not even in the privacy of his own thoughts. Thus he didn't have a clue how to respond.

His body had its own ideas -- his groin ached as the blood that had been reddening his face diverted downward, making his pants too tight. For a moment his arms itched to hurl themselves around Bruce, knocking him backward, so that Tony could crush him senseless instead of having to come up with something to say, but thinking about crushing Bruce senseless was preposterous. He had no idea what Bruce expected, nor wanted, and he couldn't imagine saying aloud the words that his mind was trying to rehearse, particularly to Bruce whom he did not want to scare, nor to scare away...

"Tony. Take a breath. You look like you're about to pass out." Bruce's wink was so unexpected that Tony had to laugh, but since he hadn't inhaled since Bruce had said what he had said, the effort sent him into a coughing fit. While he fought for air, Bruce went over to their stuff, grabbed the canteen for Tony, and sat back down.

"Have a drink."

"Thanks," Tony croaked and gulped icy water, which ran over the sides of his mouth and down his neck, constricting his throat further though it stopped the cough. Bruce's hand brushed up his back and squeezed his shoulder, grounding him, making him hyper-aware of the sharp morning earth-and-grass-scent and goosebumps on his throat and damp bare feet and for an instant the sun blazing through, painfully bright and yellow before the uneven white-gray sky covered it again.

"Didn't mean to panic you," Bruce was saying. "I didn't think it'd be that much of a surprise."

"It's...the way you just..." Tony cleared his throat, swiping at his eyes which had watered from the coughing. "I was expecting the opposite. Thought you were about to tell me you're still the green guy and this is all just a...thing."

Bruce's face screwed up as he squinted at Tony like he was making no sense. "I'll always be the green guy," he said, not defensively but as if he was stating the obvious. "Does that make this 'all just a thing'?" Tony puzzled over it for a minute. He understood what Bruce meant, maybe all too well. "All right, Iron Man, your turn. What do you want?"

The sun burst through the clouds again, vanished, reappeared, then slowly faded, as if flashing a message in code to Tony. A warm wind accompanied the light, lifting the damp hair from his neck, whispering the same message against his skin. In that second he looked at Bruce and saw with simple clarity what he wanted.

But nothing really was simple, nor could it be, so he settled for a partial truth. "I want this. You. Sex with you. I don't want it to stop." Bruce tried to duck his head before Tony could see his expression, but he caught a flash of it -- flushed, with bright eyes and a hint of a smile.

"That's good, then." And for a moment it was that easy. "But I can't go back. I'm not sure I can ever go back." The sun floated out again and back. Apologetically Bruce added, "I know you have an entire life in New York and Malibu and wherever else it takes you. Whereas I don't have a life at all except in places I can hide the other guy, and if you tell me you want him too, I might get jealous." The lightness in his tone made Tony's chest expand, knocking loose whatever had been rattling around in there since Bruce started talking. It emerged as a breathless laugh. "What are you giggling about?"

""I don't want you to talk that way about yourself. You're only one guy. The one I want." The itch to knock Bruce to the ground was back, fierce, and the giggles kept bubbling up. Tony gave in to both, laughing too hard after coughing too much to muster any strength. So he fell over him, but Bruce didn't seem to mind. He let Tony's weight take him down into the grass and the sunlight broke through and stayed.

They got up and packed their stuff and hiked more than two miles before belatedly realizing that they were both really hungry because they'd forgotten to eat. Bruce was in a funny mood, happy and shy all at once; he didn't talk much, but he kept meeting Tony's eyes, touching his hand, blushing, beaming, looking surprised at himself.

Tony was surprised too. He'd thought that Bruce had put careful barriers in place, pushing his limits physically and maybe psychologically, but keeping his feelings in check. Though perhaps it was only his words he'd held back. And no longer, not since Tony had crossed the line that morning -- the line between night and day, as it were. Maybe it hadn't been Bruce's line, either. Maybe Bruce had tried to respect what he thought were Tony's boundaries.

Under any circumstances, the barriers seemed to be gone, and Tony felt unease growing faster than eagerness. He was on vacation, free to explore. Had he used that as an excuse not to ask himself too many questions? All he knew was that he'd been comfortable within those limitations, while feeling unnerved when Bruce got him to say things he hadn't thought through. And though he had been the one to press, earlier, Tony wasn't sure he had been ready to hear what his friend had wanted to say. Bruce grinned at him again as he pulled out his camera, feeling safer behind a lens as he started to document what he was seeing.

The volcano was alive. Tony knew that, a few years ago, it had sent a plume of water from the crater lake hundreds of yards into the air. Even from this distance, he could see the lava flow through the magnification of the lens which made everything clearer.

_You could drop me in an active volcano and I'm not even sure that would kill the other guy._

He stumbled over Bruce's feet, only barely stopping himself from falling over, so that they ended up tangled in each other's arms. Bruce was still smiling until he glanced at Tony, who didn't realize his thoughts had reached his face until he watched the pleasure fade from his friend's expression.

"Sorry." Quickly disentangling himself, Bruce moved several paces away.

"The geology lecture," Tony began slowly. "Subduction. Is it pushing the other island away?"

Breaking the gaze between them, Bruce swung his arm around. "This is all part of the Ring of Fire. The Pacific borders are tectonic disaster areas. You know the earthquakes in California are because of it, and there are eruptions here because of it. The Australian plate twists as the Pacific plate goes under it, so one island is moving faster than the other."

"Ring of Fire, right. Do you actually give a shit about the tectonics, or is this a metaphor about us?" Bruce only stared until Tony felt compelled to change the subject. "I think you were right this morning about it being too miserably hot to see volcanoes. Can we have something to eat? I'm starved."

Bruce turned and resumed his pace toward the boundaries of the national park with the volcanoes that were linked, deep underground, to Tony's life on the other side of the world. He talked only about science all afternoon, magma chambers and metamorphic rock, and Tony tried to pretend that he could concentrate on anything Bruce was saying.

That night they camped in a nature preserve which surrounded the geologically active area, protecting thermal features from tourists and vice versa. Bruce sat close to the fire and read about liquid metal alloys until the flames had burned too low to provide adequate light. He wasn't interested in a lantern. He went to organize his pack while Tony sat and stared and tried to work out what he was thinking.

He expected Bruce to return, since there hadn't been a single night they hadn't made love since they'd set out, but Bruce didn't get back up, and eventually Tony concluded that he had gone to sleep. Gathering up his own things, Tony went to lie down, close enough to feel Bruce's body heat but not touching. 

An hour later he was still awake, mulling over the difference between Bruce that morning, comfortable and open, and Bruce that afternoon, isolated and distant. Turning, he leaned his forehead against Bruce's back, relaxing into the warmth that radiated from him. Bruce's breath hitched, and Tony realized that he wasn't asleep either. "Hey," he whispered, pressing his palm against Bruce's shoulder.

"Hey," Bruce whispered back, and Tony realized he had no idea what he wanted to say. Didn't want to make a stupid observation about how they were both awake, wasn't sure he wanted to ask whether Bruce was okay. There was a flurry of movement, then abruptly Bruce's hands were in his hair, pulling him across his body, dragging him down into a kiss, mouth demanding and hungry. Tony let out a startled cry as his upper lip stretched and tore.

Bruce relented on the pressure but growled back at him. Flipping them over, he pinned Tony down with his weight and caught Tony's wrists tightly in his fingers, bending his arms down. For an instant, in the faint light, Tony thought Bruce might be turning green, and was ashamed that the quake that went through him mixed a bit of excitement with the terror.

"Which thing should I not have said?" Bruce demanded.

Tony decided his best course of action was to show his puzzlement, even if it wasn't about the question. "You're the one who went to bed without so much as a goodnight."

"I didn't think you'd mind. You haven't said two words to me since this afternoon." Bruce's voice was low and raspy. "What was it you didn't want to talk about?"

"Do you think you could let me sit up?" retorted Tony. He could feel rather than see Bruce's smile, the sudden shift in the energy of Bruce's grip before Bruce kissed him again, hot and deep, not angry but searching, reminding. It would have been possible, had Tony mustered all his strength, to throw Bruce off, but he was shaken by the passion in the kiss, the things Bruce was trying to tell him without words. Long before Bruce let him up for air, Tony was pressing up to him, squirming not for escape but for more contact.

"You still want this?" Bruce breathed. "Tell me."

Frustration sparked along Tony's trapped wrists and confined legs. "Why don't you tell me, for a change?"

"I told you!"

"You said." Tony stopped to remember. "You said you wanted to see the volcanoes instead of spending the day in bed. You said this came with an expiration date."

"And you sounded all right with that." Bruce didn't release his grip. "You didn't get like this until I...panicked you. I didn't mean..."

"You didn't panic me because you said you _might_ be _a little_ in love with me. Any more qualifiers, and I might have thought you meant the opposite." Tony jerked his wrists within Bruce's grip to punctuate the words that marked hesitation.

"Oh, fuck you. You didn't say it back and I didn't think you wanted more than that, anyway. What _do_ you want?"

"I thought we already had this conversation."

"So did I!" Bruce was hard against his leg, rocking with Tony when he surged upward, almost panting. "Let's try again. What do you want? You just want to fuck and forget it? Cause I can do that." His voice was rough with frustration and it carried beyond the confines of their campsite. "Or you want to say hell, it's only a couple more days and then you're going back, so we might as well forget about it right now?"

"You know that's not..." 

It was all he got out before Bruce kissed him again, and Tony decided he'd had enough of the circulation being cut off in his wrists. So much easier to let Bruce have his way, to respond enthusiastically; and then so easy to get his hands free as Bruce started to touch him, to push on Bruce's shoulders and reverse their positions, to pull at his clothes, to get him ready and begging for Tony to hurry, not to stop, oh do that, before letting Bruce know that he wasn't quite done talking.

"You said I could drop you in an active volcano and you weren't even sure that would kill the other guy. And that if you got depressed enough, you might try it. The very first night, you said that."

"What?" Bruce's eyes clouded with confusion. Then his breath rushed out in a deliberate hiss. "Fuck."

"Is that why we're here, Banner? In New Zealand? 

Rattled, Bruce stared down at Tony, looking like he wondered whether Tony thought he knew something or was just lashing out with whatever was convenient. The fight was going out of Bruce; Tony could feel him flattening against the ground, almost as if he was slumping over. It wasn't a pleasant sensation. "Not like that." Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, Bruce wriggled out of contact and sat up. "I mean, yes, it was for the volcano, but because of the metals, not because I was planning to fling myself in. I haven't thought about doing anything like that since the first time you kissed me."

There it was again, that chest-crushing revelation whose meaning Tony kept trying to dodge. Shit, and he'd told Bruce to talk to him without the qualifiers. It was a wonder Bruce hadn't written him off as a total bastard. "Listen. About before, I know I screwed up. I'm sorry."

A shrug. "Happens." But Tony could feel the tension in him, even though they weren't touching. "Are we all right, then?"

"Bruce. I think, you know..." He made a gesture with his hand, pressing his own chest which still felt tight and strange, then gesturing out, as if there were another magical looking creature like a kiwi in the darkness. "I, um, you know, might be a little bit, too."

"No qualifiers?" Bruce asked, low and amused, or maybe low because the shake in his voice wasn't laughter. He caught Tony's hand in midair and pulled him close. "Have we talked enough yet?"

"Oh yeah." Bruce's mouth found the spot on his throat just below where his beard was growing out since they hadn't much bothered with grooming during their travels. The lips fluttered there for a moment, then parted and sucked hard. Tony let his hands move over Bruce's head to hold him there even as he added, "You're going to leave a mark."

"The other guy could suck your blood like a vampire." Bruce's mouth continued to move in a hot trail around Tony's neck before he finally moved up to his lips, and by the time Tony touched him, he was groaning involuntarily, gasping for breath. "Let's just fuck," Bruce whispered, groping blindly for the bag and what was inside. Tony could feel him losing control under his hands, listened as Bruce's vocabulary reduced itself to "God" and Tony's name. 

The only way for Tony to silence him was to kiss him again, and the kiss pushed him over the edge. With a cry loud enough to set off an earthquake, he came, muscles clenching spasmodically. Then he groaned and spread his legs wider, letting Bruce fuck him against the unyielding ground.

"You didn't tell me what's going to happen when the Pacific plate finishes going underneath the Australian plate." Tony said sleepily later, lying with Bruce's face next to his shoulder. "Is it going to break up the islands here?"

"Don't know." The words were slurred, "It's an ongoing process. By the time that happens, California's supposed to become an island too. So we might both get dumped in the ocean."

"I don't like getting dumped." Tony shifted across the space between them and wriggled his arm underneath Bruce's body. "Subduction. Like that?"

"Yeah." Bruce didn't quite laugh, but he rumbled a bit as he relaxed into the closeness. "I was hoping some of it was getting through."

"I heard everything you said." Tony paused for a moment. "Did you hear everything I said?"

And he thought he could hear a smile in Bruce's voice when he replied, "I might have, a little bit."


	4. Backtrack

As evening approached on the last day, Tony understood that he had really screwed up. He couldn't have pushed Bruce further away if he'd stuck him in a boat and cast him into the ocean. Even though they had spent the entire day together, sitting next to each other in the car, they might as well have been on different continents...just as one day, not so far into the future, they would be.

Bruce was subdued, not grumpy the way he could get when the weather wasn't cooperating, but too quiet. It took Tony most of the morning to realize that he was sad. He barely commented on the geologic wonders out the window, sitting with a tablet in his lap, rarely touching the screen. When Tony asked him questions, he answered in a polite monotone. By the time they reached the hotel -- the same hotel where they'd stayed the first night -- Tony could see that the trip wasn't the only thing nearly over. And that, finally, made him recognize how chickenshit he'd been. 

He wanted to stay in the room they'd had before, thinking Bruce might appreciate the gesture, but he couldn't remember the room number and he thought that if he gave Bruce an opening, Bruce might suggest getting his own room. So he asked for the biggest suite, which came with a whirlpool bath and king-sized bed. Though Bruce raised his eyebrows when he saw the accommodations, he didn't complain about having to share them.

"I'm a little late on the romance," Tony said by way of apology. 

"I never wanted romance," scoffed Bruce, sitting down on the bed, leaving his bags in a pile in the middle of the floor. "But I guess I pretended maybe it could last longer."

"It can last longer. I'm trying to be better at long-term and long distance. I disappoint people -- just ask Pepper."

"What are you afraid of?" Bruce asked in a tone somewhere between exasperation and puzzlement. "One minute I think you want me to say let's end it, but the..."

"I don't. Don't say that." Even though Tony had guessed Bruce would try to call it off, he wasn't ready for how the suggestion actually hit him, like a nauseating blow just below the ribcage. His reaction must have shown on his face, because Bruce's expression changed; he looked worried that he'd upset Tony, but there was a flicker of triumph in his eyes, quickly blinked back.

All right, he probably deserved that. Tony wished his stomach hadn't jumped into his throat, where it was threatening to block his voice. "You know, I do," he turned his head, looking away, "love you."

He wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't Bruce's sudden lunge, pushing Tony down to the mattress by his shoulders as his fingers scrambled for purchase on the bedspread. Bruce's tongue was in his mouth before he could say anything else, hands catching and drawing Tony's wrists beside his head, one leg sliding between Tony's and rubbing purposefully. He was hard -- when the hell had that happened? -- and his breath caught when Bruce pressed his thigh down against his cock.

"Fuck now," Bruce growled, tearing his fingers away from Tony's hands to fumble with the snap on his jeans. "Talk later."

The transition was so fast that it left Tony disoriented, weak with relief that they weren't going to argue and aching from the sudden pressure in his groin. He could do little but give himself up to Bruce's hungry mouth and relentless hands, letting himself be stripped from the waist down. Tony had never seen Bruce like this before -- had known him to be demanding, yet always careful, stopping at any sign of discomfort. Of course, Tony had done the same, all too conscious that if he got too forceful, he might find himself no longer with Bruce. Maybe Bruce assumed that Tony liked it slow and deliberate, not hard and crazy.

But now Bruce did what he wanted, sucking Tony into near-incoherence with two spit-moistened fingers pressing into his ass before he even bothered to take his own shirt off. "Wait," Tony managed to protest. "Please. Bruce. Fuck me. Let me come with you."

He didn't have to beg. Bruce dropped his underwear in a pile with his shirt, not bothering to remove his socks. Didn't bother with the condom -- Tony was sure by now that Bruce didn't have the plague, and Bruce was equally sure the Hulk couldn't catch it -- put lube on his cock, but didn't bother to slick his fingers, wiping the excess liquid onto Tony's still-damp cock as he rolled Tony over, got him up on his spread knees and pushed into him without further preliminaries. The sudden burning stretch hurt and Tony shouted, but Bruce didn't pull back, just gave Tony a moment to breathe and waited to see if Tony would protest before he began to fuck him, pumping Tony's cock with his right hand in time with his thrusts. The long fingers of Bruce's left hand wrapped around Tony's hip, holding him in place.

Tony thought Bruce must have been overwhelmed, hurting more than he'd let on all day, and maybe he couldn't respond any other way. There wasn't pleasure at first so much as sensory overload; the thrill came from the part of him that had wanted Bruce to want him like this, the part that made him breathless every time Bruce admitted it wasn't just about sex. Bruce's hand moved from Tony's hip to push down on his back, pressing his shoulder blade until Tony folded his arms underneath himself and lowered his head to the mattress. Without breaking his rhythm, Bruce bent over him and demanded, "Say it again."

And it was so easy like that, crushed face-down on a bedspread that smelled close up of industrial cleaners, with Bruce around him and inside him, pushing aside everything else in the world. "Love you. Love you. Love you." Tony chanted the words like a mantra until the ache softened and melted, leaving him hypersensitive to Bruce's cock inside him and Bruce's fingers roughly jerking him, punctuating every stroke into his body until he couldn't speak in words anymore.

Bruce let go with one more hard thrust, a series of breathless groans and shudders, hand stopping to hold the head of Tony's cock before resuming its implacable rhythm with newly damp fingers. "Fuck, Tony," he panted, dropping his head into the sweat streaking Tony's back, rubbing his cheek in it as he slid his cock out of Tony. The trail of moisture that dripped over the back of Tony's tightening balls sent him over the edge, spattering his own chest and stomach and the bedspread. He straightened his knees to lie down and Bruce lay across his back, one arm loosely wrapped around his hip, face still pressed into Tony's skin. They didn't speak.

After a while, when the sky had begun to darken through the cracks in the curtains, Bruce kissed Tony's shoulder, got up and went into the bathroom. He was in there for a while with the sink running before he came back, carrying a washcloth and a towel. "Thought you might need this," he said, sitting beside Tony.

"I think I probably need a shower."

"That's quite a tub. I should have known you'd be the Jacuzzi type."

"Secretly a sap, remember?" Tony smiled up at Bruce. "I thought if I was lucky I might end up needing it."

"Are you sore?"

"Hell yes, and don't apologize." Bruce lowered his head and grinned, happiness gleaming on him, and Tony knew then he wouldn't be sorry even if he couldn't sit later. "You hungry?"

"A little."

"Why don't we go down and get some food, and later we can try out the tub? Just let me go wash off."

The same waitress was working in the bar. She gave them big smiles when they sat down in the booth they had all shared that first night, and brought them beer and fried wings without Tony having to ask. It was earlier in the evening than the last time they had been there, and there were a few more people at the counter and the tables in the back. In between her trips back and forth to the kitchen, she asked about the trip and their impressions of New Zealand, then winked at Bruce and said her friend would be there later.

Bruce, in turn, laughed, winked at Tony and said they needed to make it an early night. The waitress looked from one to the other, nodding slightly, her suspicions plain on her face. With a shrug, Tony returned Bruce's wink, lifted his glass to the waitress, grinned and took a swallow of beer. She shook her head and returned his smile: "That's too bad for us, then."

After she walked away, Bruce said, "You know it's possible one of them will have recognized you."

"That bother you?"

"No. I thought it might bother you, though, and not because they'll say Iron Man is gay. Are you going to tell Rogers and Natasha that you found me?" Bruce's gaze was level, not accusatory, yet it struck Tony as a rebuke. He had convinced himself that Bruce's wish for discretion must be greater than his own, which had allowed Tony not to think too much about his own need for privacy. He didn't really care what labels people put on him, but he didn't like the exposure. Which was a kind of denial; it made things less complicated when they ended. Maybe thinking like that doomed relationships.

But this one...all the qualifiers had been necessary. They would be an ocean away from each other. Saying goodbye was going to be brutal.

"You don't look happy, Tony." Bruce's solemn voice brought him back to the present. " _Are_ you worried about people finding out?"

"I'm worried about leaving." He took a swallow of beer before he continued. "You might not be afraid of that volcano, but I am."

"There's no need to be. I'm different now. We're different." Bruce reached briefly for his hand. Tony was aware of others in the room watching them and wanted to laugh at the idea that anyone might think the oddest thing about their relationship was that they were both men. "Let's go back to the room."

Tony knew what he wanted as soon as they walked together into the bathroom -- not to fuck Bruce in the tub, not up against the tiles in the shower stall, though both those possibilities briefly took form in his mind, leaving him with a dry mouth and a hard cock. The sink was set in a wide marble counter top surrounded by three mirrors, angled to create dozens of reflected images. The moment Bruce stepped to the sink to get his toothbrush out of his travel bag, Tony moved behind him, putting his arms on either side of Bruce's body to trap him there.

Bruce caught his eye quizzically in the mirror. "You want to wash?"

"No, I want to watch." Tony slid his hands to Bruce's waist and started to help him out of his clothes. After a moment of staring, amused, in the mirror, Bruce pulled his shirt over his head and finished the job while Tony dropped his own pants and kicked them out of the way. There was lube among the toiletries between the toothpaste and the razor. Meeting Bruce's eyes reflected in the mirror front of him, he said, "Let's do it right here."

Bruce flushed and moved his eyes, but there were reflections of the two of them all around; he had no choice but to watch as Tony pushed down on his shoulders, urging his legs apart with a foot inside one ankle. To keep his balance, Bruce dropped both hands to the counter top, then sank onto his elbows, ass thrusting back toward Tony who rubbed against it, then felt momentarily self-conscious as he saw Bruce studying his expression in the mirror. They grinned at each other.

"Fuck me, then," said Bruce, his eyes laughing at Tony from three sides. But Tony was content just to lean over him for a minute, pressed against him, arms reaching around to pinch his nipples until Bruce wriggled under him and hissed. "The marble's cold," he protested.

"I'll get you hot soon enough," Tony promised. Bruce squirmed again, and in the mirror Tony could see his cock heavy and hard between his legs. 

Pulling the lube from the bag, Tony coated his fingers, then trailed them up the crack behind Bruce's balls. "That's cold too!" he gasped, but he pressed back against Tony's probing hand, engulfing a slick finger easily. Then he glanced in the mirror and flushed at the sight of himself spreading open for Tony, whose cock hovered by Bruce's hip, dark and swollen. "You're going to make me watch this?"

"You don't like it?" Two fingers, curved just so, and Bruce groaned and bucked, his head tossed back. Tony had never seen him from some of the angles visible in the reflections. He thought that with that urgent look on his face, strained and aching, Bruce almost looked dangerous. "I'd love to do this to the other you," he said without thinking, scissoring his fingers inside Bruce.

"Fuck!" The cry was harsh, and Tony wasn't sure whether it was in response to his actions or his words. Bruce's eyes opened wide, focused on Tony's. "You're crazy," he grated. "You -- ahh!" For Tony had closed his other hand around Bruce's cock, and Bruce's eyes disengaged, rolling toward the ceiling. Tony pulled his fingers out of Bruce's body and groped for the lube again as beneath him, Bruce trembled. He braced one hand on Bruce's hip and the other on his own cock, positioning himself. 

Bruce bent over onto the counter, sliding his elbows apart so that his face was inches from its reflection at the bottom of the large mirror in the center. In the well-lit bathroom, Tony could see every change in expression -- could see Bruce brace himself against the initial discomfort, then respond to it, forcing himself to relax, softening and rounding his mouth the way he was willing the clenching opening to soften. And Tony could see his own face change, too, the rush of triumphant pleasure as he breached Bruce's body, the fear as he waited to see if he was hurting Bruce, the eagerness, the frustration...it was shockingly intimate to see how those feelings appeared on his own face.

Glancing down, he saw that Bruce was watching him as well, breathing so hard through his mouth that his breath fogged the mirror right in front of his face. Again they exchanged smiles, though Bruce's was strained with discomfort and Tony's with want. "Go on," Bruce panted. "Stop thinking so much."

"Want..." Another push, and Bruce's face contorted, elatedly this time; Tony had hit the right angle. "Want to remember..."

"Can't we just...fucking enjoy...now?" 

Tony couldn't find the words to tell him how much he was enjoying it, the way Bruce's hips rose with every thrust, the way the short hair over his forehead brushed the mirror and left trails of moisture, the way his mouth fell open more and more and his nose twitched. Tony watched his cock disappearing into Bruce's body, his fingers pressing red marks on Bruce's hip, his sweaty hair sticking to his own neck. So hot when he was in deep, muscles gripping him irregularly, making soft wet noises as he moved. 

Once Bruce glanced up to see, groaning at the image in all the mirrors. "Only for you," he muttered.

"Better be."

"Love you." 

"Love you too!" And Tony lost it, just like that, watching Bruce's mouth form the words in the mirrors as he heard them, surrounded. He came hard, practically slamming Bruce's face into the glass, opening his eyes to see an image of himself writhing in ecstasy with Bruce gazing up at his image.

Afterwards he never knew whether it was the words or the violence of that final thrust that set it off -- he'd seen Banner sprinting without transforming, he knew it couldn't be heart rate or adrenaline alone that made the other guy take over, but something went wrong, something went wild. Tony heard the roar, saw Bruce's features starting to twist.

"Bruce," he panted urgently, trying to keep calm, trying to keep his voice steady. His cock was still inside Bruce and he wasn't sure he dared pull it out, though every instinct in him was screaming for him to run away. "Bruce. It's me. This is good. It's all good. I love you, and that's good. We're going to make this work, you and me." He could see Bruce's skin tone changing, the muscles starting to bulge unnaturally, and his cock slipped out anyway. "Look at me. Bruce. _Look at me._ I'm not afraid of you, I'm not afraid of this. It's all fine. I love you."

There was a moment when Tony was sure that this was it -- that this was how he was going to die. It was oddly fitting; if he'd caught his breath, he would have laughed hysterically. Maybe his amusement showed in his face, because he could tell the Hulk believed him about not being afraid, though it wasn't true, he was terrified, he'd never been so terrified except possibly that moment when he'd thought Bruce actually planned to jump into a volcano to see whether that would kill him. Somehow it was still Bruce's eyes in that face. "Come on back," Tony said, trying to remember what Natasha said in her lullaby beyond _hey, big guy_. "I'm right here, Bruce, come back to me."

Slowly Bruce lowered himself to the counter top, wincing. Tony caught him, pulling the other man -- and he was a man now, not the Hulk -- slowly upright. Without their mutual enhancements, they were close in height, no longer young, neither as tall nor as handsome as Captain America or Thor. He looked at them both for a long minute in the mirror, Bruce darker and hairier beside Tony's pale skin, before Bruce turned suddenly and kissed Tony hard on the mouth.

"You're still here."

"I told you. Even when I have to leave, I'm not leaving. I want you, and if having you means having the other guy, then we find a way to make that work too. Unless...do _you_ still want _me_? Because I know I've been a coward. I know I kept sending Natasha to talk to the Hulk when it should have been me. I know I've been an idiot."

Bruce's mouth quivered with laughter against Tony's cheek. "I'm going to turn on that tub, and while we're waiting for it to get all hot and bubbly, you can suck me until I come all over your face," he growled into Tony's ear. "And because now I know you're an exhibitionist, I'm going to watch the whole thing in the fucking mirror." 

Even though he had recovered neither from his own orgasm nor from believing he was about to be smashed by the Hulk, Tony felt his cock twitch. "God, yes. Anything you want. Everything you want." He felt Bruce squirm against him, realized that he was digging his fingernails into Bruce's skin, then realized that Bruce had been letting him, even though it must have hurt. Bruce shifted back, letting Tony see his embarrassed, relieved grin before he drew away to fiddle with the faucets.

While Bruce was busy, Tony pulled the bath mat in front of the sink, and was waiting on his knees when Bruce turned back to him. He felt proud that he was only trembling slightly and could pretend it was from desire. Tony could only half-see the mirrors from the floor, but he could see Bruce watching himself in the mirror as Tony sucked him till he pulled out and sprayed messily against Tony's cheek and hair and then turned on the sink to clean Tony off, kissing his wet face.

Much later when they were lying in bed, limp and drained from hours of whirlpool bathing and sex, Bruce asked, "Should we talk about what happened?" 

"You mean how you made me come harder than I ever have in my life?"

"I mean how I could have killed you and everyone else in this hotel, and this town, and maybe this whole island, just so we could fu..."

"Make love," Tony interrupted, turning to face him. He felt a dull ache in his throat, wondered if that was how Bruce had felt earlier in the car. The other man's face was in shadow, one arm over his forehead. "You didn't. I knew you wouldn't."

"I appreciate your confidence but your track record with optimistic predictions isn't the greatest." Now Bruce glanced over at him, his smile warm but exasperated. "Like what you said about your track record with your lovers. How do you know the other guy won't take out all of New Zealand if you leave me?"

"Kiwis," Tony said with the greatest of confidence. "This is the only place they live. The Hulk wouldn't eradicate the kiwis." 

Bruce appeared to be taking this suggestion seriously. "I'll always think of you now when I think of kiwis," he muttered. "They might be the first thing the other guy wants to smash."

"Well, it isn't going to matter, because I'm not going to leave you." Twisting fully onto his side, Tony lifted himself up on an elbow. "I mean, obviously I can't stay here full time. If you insist on hiding from civilization, I'll come find you wherever you are. But I think it would be better if you came back with me. We're two pretty smart men. We'll figure out ways to keep you safe. I know I can't promise I won't ever hurt you, because I'm an idiot and I say stupid things in spite of being a genius, but I won't ever let you hurt yourself. Whatever I screw up, I will fix. I swear."

There was silence for so long that Tony thought maybe Bruce hadn't understood, or that he'd said the wrong thing. Then, quietly, "You actually want to try?" Bruce rolled to face him, biting his lip. "What was it you said the other day? I thought you might have meant the opposite."

"You might be right. My track record is terrible. I might screw up sometimes. But I love you, and I want to keep working with you and saving the world with you. You're so much more important than you think." He was babbling, talking in his rustiest voice so maybe Bruce couldn't tell if it was shaking, but Bruce seemed finally to be relaxing, shaking his head, leaning close with his forehead on Tony's shoulder. 

Bruce cut him off in his most authoritative voice as he flattened against Tony, arm falling heavily across Tony's waist. "I might be willing to try if you are."

"I am." Face burrowing against Tony's neck, Bruce snored faintly, and was asleep before Tony had figured out what else he wanted to say. "'Night, Bruce," he whispered, amused, glancing down to make sure it was in fact the same man holding him as the one he'd started out with. Bruce muttered in his sleep, tightening his arm.

Closing his eyes, Tony tilted his head back and inhaled. They'd cross the biggest bridge of the trip driving the next day, but there was no way back to where they had been before. It would be a different island, going back together like this. And it was really just as well, thought Tony. Curving into Bruce's warmth, he let sleep take him someplace beyond.


End file.
